


Delay That

by ilokheimsins



Series: Inceptiversary 2017 Bingo [2]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Blowjobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, arthur is an asshole, but not really, delayed gratification, there's plot if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 08:07:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11413713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilokheimsins/pseuds/ilokheimsins
Summary: Arthur thinks an exercise in delayed gratification is needed.





	Delay That

**Author's Note:**

> 1/25 of Inceptiversary 2017 Bingo Blackout ( I hope )

“Arthur, darling, I love you but is there a point to this?”

“Waiting for something makes it sweeter,” Arthur replies without missing a beat and fires off a shot over the rampart they’re hiding behind before ducking back down.

“You started blowing me and then stopped to shoot things,” Eames points out uncharitably.  He looks down sadly at his dick, which is unfortunately very hard still and missing Arthur’s mouth.

“Shooting people in the face waits for no one,” Arthur says sagely and then pops up like some sort of satanic jack in the box to shoot something else.

Eames stops himself from saying “that’s what he said” but it’s a very close thing and he ends up coughing around the swallowed words.  Arthur looks at him askance like he knows exactly what Eames is thinking.

“I promise it’s worth the wait,” Arthur leans in to purr.  “If only you can wait, hm, Mr. Eames?”

And thrice fucking dammit, Eames clears his throat and nods.  Arthur pecks him on the cheek and then vaults over the stone so fast that Eames doesn’t even have time to process it before the last of Arthur is whipping out of sight.  He stares forlornly down at his dick again and sighs.

***

It takes the threat of someone pounding up the stairs to the rooftop he’s ensconced on for him to zip himself back up and to palm his gun, his actual one that kills things, into a ready position.  When the door bursts open, Eames takes aim and blows out the kneecap of the first in a wave of intruders clad in balaclavas.

His cock is a warm, throbbing reminder that he’s not going anywhere fast and each time he fires is a countdown towards probable death.  The adrenaline burning through his veins doesn’t help him in trying to will down his erection and the enemy coming through the door seems endless.

Dammit Arthur.

Of course, just as he runs out of bullets and is about to resort to chucking his gun, Arthur appears like an avenging angel and beats the living tar out of four people before tossing a grenade down the stairwell and bolting for it.  He hauls Eames up from behind the wall and then half throws, half lets Eames jump to the next building before leaping over himself.  Arthur, having the good fortune to not be sporting an inconveniently timed hard on, lands far more gracefully than Eames does, seeing as he lands on his feet and not on his stomach.

“Hi,” he says, somewhat breathlessly.

Eames blinks at him and brushes an errant wisp of hair that’s fallen out of the pomade out of the way.

“Hello, pet.”

“I got them all,” Arthur says smugly and pushes Eames up against the wall of their new position.

“Mind sharing with the class who them is?”

“Some kid bullied Phillipa and thought he could get away with it because his dad is attached to the mob,” Arthur shrugs and undoes Eames’ belt.

“Uncle Arthur to teach them a lesson, hm?”

“Uncle Arthur needed sensitive content from them anyway,” Arthur retorts as he pulls down Eames’ zip.

“That’s not the only sensitive content Uncle Arthur’s going to get,” Eames says with a leer and an exaggerated eyebrow wiggle that stops Arthur short in his quest to get to Eames’ cock.

Arthur’s face spasms like he wants to make a disgusted expression but won’t because it’s too much effort and it’s a few long, syrupy seconds before he finally says, “That was terrible. I can’t believe I’m still about to blow you.”

“Well, it’s only fair after you left me to go be lissome and lithe and lethal,” Eames says.

“Excellent use of alliteration, Mr. Eames, now shut up,” Arthur commands and covers the head of Eames’ cock with his mouth before Eames can reply.

“This is,” Eames has to pause to heave air into his lungs when Arthur hums and puts pressure on the spot just below the crest at the same time, “the waiting thing then?”

Arthur either nods or sinks down a bit further and comes back up.  Or, knowing Arthur and his love of efficiency, both.

Eames groans and loosely tousles a hand into Arthur’s hair, stroking his fingers lightly through the disintegrating pomade as Arthur sinks all the way down and runs a hand around the curve of Eames’ balls to trace the sensitive stretch of skin behind.  He tries to keep silent, taking long shaky inhales and rough exhales that clutch up his throat and sound like they’re rumbling up from deep inside.  Arthur is ever adept and puts into play everything he knows about Eames’ body, dipping the barest edge of a nail into his slit while mouthing at the root and pressing his tongue hard against Eames’ cock as he bobs his head.  He stops for a split second several times when Eames’ fingers tighten reflexively, just enough for the rising tide of his orgasm to ebb away before he starts up again.  It’s a frustrating process but Eames knows that if he tries to push, Arthur will simply pull off completely and start the whole song and dance all over again.

Eventually though, he can’t hold out anymore.  It’s a wave rushing up from where his toes are curling in the ugly ass boat shoes Arthur keeps trying to throw out and a heat spreading outwards from the pits of his stomach, all coalescing into a livewire in his cock.  Arthur’s eyes get that familiar glint that they do when he knows Eames is close, like it’s a competition now to get Eames to come before he wants to.  And no matter how Eames tries, he never wins.  This time is no exception.  His hand clutches tight against Arthur’s skull as Arthur drags a canine lightning fast and light as feather up the vein along the underside while simultaneously twisting one hand around the head and pressing up hard behind his balls with the other.

“Fucking hell,” Eames swears and knocks his head back against the wall.  He’s breathing like he’s just run a marathon as Arthur tucks him back into his pants, zips, and belts him back up.  He stands and tugs his sleeves back into place, looking radiant and mussed in the half light of the setting sun.

“Are you going to do anything about that?” Eames asks, nodding at the stark line of Arthur’s cock ruining the line of his suit.

“Mr. Eames,” Arthur says, eyes dark and feral, “I do believe I just showed you the benefits of waiting.  Perhaps you could do me the same?”

His smirk is a glittering thing, half blinding and ever brilliant, and Eames just manages to say, “Why, pet, I thought you’d never ask.”


End file.
